


Case Study 395960

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Curses, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Fairy Godmothers are seen as curse givers, Spencer's really not sure about having two Afflicted in his and Ryan’s band.</p><p>Written for the prompt: some magical force makes Brendon go into heat. Spencer and Ryan help him out. (preferably Panic before they were signed).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Case Study 395960

“He’s from your school?”

Spencer doesn’t like the sound of it. To be perfectly honest, he’d rather Brent had invited a couple of homeless guys. Sure they might have tried to steal the guitar, but all that would have happened was Ryan beating them to death for interfering with his capital d Dream. Someone from Palo Verde is so much more horrifying. It’s fucking _dangerous_. Spencer knows more than anyone that Ryan needs this to work, and Spencer’s willing to do almost anything to make that happen. Being horribly murdered, whether it’s by poison, by Little People, or by a dozen other methods shown in highly published case studies is not on the list of things Spencer is willing to face. Especially considering if he gets murdered they won’t have a drummer and Ryan won’t get out anyway.

“Yeah. Where else would I have met him?” Brent shrugs, like he doesn’t understand what a big fucking deal it is. It’s probably different for him. Actually going to Palo must be like being in the Klan, you’re too close to realise how crazy it all is.

“So what’s his deal?”

“I dunno.”

“You didn’t ask?” Because seriously, what the fuck? It could be something like ‘you will slaughter anyone with name alliteration’! Of course, that wouldn’t really affect Brent.

“Look. I know you two are normal, you don’t know etiquette, but that’s not cool. You don’t just ask one of the Afflicted what their curse is.”

“You told us.” Ryan points out.

“Yeah, exactly dude, _I_ told _you_. Because it wasn’t a hugely big deal, and it sure as fuck doesn’t have anything to do you either of you. ‘You will pine for your love from afar’. I don’t even have a girlfriend yet.”

“Or a boyfriend.”

“Stop trying to push your Fall Out Boy based bisexuality on everyone. Some people are straight.”

“You don’t know unless you try both what you like better.”

Spencer rolls his eyes. Ryan and Brent have had the sexuality argument a hundred times and it gets old fucking quickly. Not to mention it’s getting totally off point. “If Brendon wants to try out in our band we’ll have fifty percent Afflicted. That’s not good odds.”

“I told you, mine doesn’t have anything to do with the band. And Brendon’s probably won’t either. Not that you can ask. I’ll kick your ass, I swear.” Spencer has no doubt that he would _try_ , the Afflicted can get pretty touchy about things. That doesn’t mean he would win, Spencer’s pretty spry if he says so himself. His gives Brent his best glare and hopes it speaks for him.

“Come on. He has to be better than Trevor, right?”

It’s against Spencer’s better judgement, but he nods his head. It’s just true facts, even a alliterating serial killer would be better than Trevor. Ryan follows suit. Brent seems to take the minute movements as confirmation, he says he’ll bring Brendon by next practice. Spencer’s last hope is that Brendon will be total shit, and they’ll have a good reason to refuse entry. If Brendon only knows one chord, they won’t have to worry about how much their band might crash and burn under the weight of two cursed members.

*

He doesn’t suck. He doesn’t suck a _lot_ , he’s actually pretty damn good. Not to mention that he claims to know a bunch of other instruments as well. Which in itself sucks because even Ryan can’t find a reason to tell him he can’t join. That means that they officially have two Afflicted guys in Panic!, and that makes the possibility of shit going down so much higher. But Spencer’s going to have to stop whining, because the other option is to have a three piece band, and that’s not going to work. Brendon is the lesser of two evils.

Brendon’s putting away his guitar and when Spencer asks to him to stick around for a bit and play xbox, because there’s no better way of fostering friendships than killing zombies together, Brendon shakes his head. “The thing is, I need to be home before six. Like, every night.”

“Family dinner?” Spencer knows that punishment, although his is usually around seven. Brendon’s is probably worse though, according to Brent Brendon’s got a bunch of brothers and sisters. At least Spencer’s only got two.

“No,”

“Weird early religious curfew?” Spencer grants Ryan a good guess. After all, Brendon is Mormon, who knows what sort of shit they do. The Smiths are basically agnostic, marginally Christian, but without church on Sunday, and Christmas is all about Santa. For all he knows about it, Mormons might totally be reverse vampires, not allowed outside after dark.

“No.”

“Oh, I know. It’s a Cinderella thing, isn’t it?”

“I told you,” are Brent’s warning words before he punches Spencer hard in the arm.

“I wish it was. For my Affliction to be having those pro shoes that lead me to marrying a handsome rich guy? Hell yeah I’d take that.”

So Spencer’s no closer to knowing what has Brendon going to his segregated school, and also he might have a bruise. He bruises embarrassingly easily. But he now knows that Brendon’s at least bi, and that he likes shoes. Both are facts of interest to him.

*

Spencer has no idea how he’s been roped into doing this. He obviously doesn’t go to the Afflicted school, there was no interference during his birth. He and Brendon are both seniors, but he has no idea what their school work is. For all he knows, one of the teachers has the curse of ‘everyone you touch will know’, and they just spend their eight hours sitting around watching tv after getting a hand on the shoulder their first day of freshman year.

The only thing he has to blame is the fact that he has his own car. He has a habit of picking Brent up from school, as long as Brent doesn’t mind waiting the twenty minutes it takes him to get out of his final class and over to Palo Verde. Spencer’s not one of those idiots that thinks the Afflicted are somehow contagious. He fluctuates between laughing and getting mad at the protesters that are always standing across the street with their signs - just far enough that they aren’t on school property to get arrested for trespassing. At least that’s how he feels now, it’s possible he wasn’t so open minded before Brendon. Brent was the exception to his shy-away rule, but Brendon pretty much obliterated it. One cannot be afraid of Brendon Urie, it is physically and mentally impossible. He should be the poster boy of Afflicted Hotline, really. No one in the KA could resist his hyperactivity or glomping hugs. Spencer’d love to see Morgan Norman take on Brendon Urie on Anderson Cooper 360. It would be a bloodbath of rainbows and puppies.

As Brent gets in the car he asks if they can stop at Brendon’s. Apparently he was absent and they’ve got an assload of homework. Spencer has no idea where he lives, and for a moment tries to use it as an excuse. He’s always thought dumping homework on someone sick is a shitty thing to do, Ryan would never have done it to him when they were both in high school. Brent foils it utterly by pulling out his phone and giving Spencer an address.

When he finally parks in front of Brendon’s house, a house that looks huge before you consider how many siblings he has, Brent opens his backpack and gives Spencer a handful of shit. Somehow he’s the one going in, while Brent waits in the car. One of Brendon’s siblings answers the door, and tells him Brendon’s upstairs when he tries to pass her the stack of papers. Spencer shrugs and kicks off his shoes before going up the flight of stairs.

Brendon’s room is pretty barren, it’s just the bed and closet and tv on a stand. But it’s also got clues to his Affliction if Spencer has the mind to put it together. There’s no bathroom but there’s a sink in the corner. The top of the closet has a shelf crammed with sheets and pillowcases. There’s an ornate Harry Potter style chest beside the tv.

Brendon is under a pile of blankets. He looks half dead, and Spencer feels guilty for coming baring not gifts but work. “Normally I wouldn’t bother you about this, but Brent says you’ve got this test worth five percent, and since it’s open book it’s basically free marks.”

From the fleece and flannel comes a grumble of acknowledgment. Brendon doesn’t really move.

“I’m gonna go. Unless you want to play a video game or something?” It’s a stupid question, there’s no console of any brand attached to the tv. Nor does Brendon look alive enough to hold a controller in his hands. Still, Spencer feels guilty leaving someone on their death bed. He never likes leaving Ryan when he’s got a cold either.

“Bye Spence,” Brendon croaks from the blankets. Spencer puts the papers on the ample floor space and leaves. Closing the door, he can’t help but notice it locks from the outside. The walk down the hall to the stairs proves that’s different from all the other doors. He still doesn’t know what all of it means. Fairy Godmothers can say some fucked up shit.

*

All Spencer can think when it happens is _we’re so stupid_. One second Ryan is bothering Brendon about eating his own chips instead of trying to take a handful of everyone’s, and Brendon’s explaining that that’s what happens when everyone gets a different flavour, and sharing is caring Ross. And the next Brendon is on Ryan. There’s no word for it except leaping, Brendon turned sideways on the couch and jumped onto Ryan. He’s got Ryan pinned to the floral fabric, a hand on either shoulder.

For a moment Spencer can’t figure it out. They weren’t fighting, he was just fucking around on his drums, Brendon and Ryan were taking a break from talking about what the lyric should sound like. Then it dawns on him. He pulls out his cellphone and checks. Sure enough, his cellphone says six, even though the clock in the corner says five. Fucking daylight savings.

Whatever the hell the actual curse was eighteen years ago, Brendon’s now trailing spit all over Ryan’s chin in attempt to kiss him, while Ryan’s twisting his head back and forth to avoid it. Spencer’s sure he learned ‘always save yourself’ in a school assembly about how to deal with the Afflicted, but he can’t not help Ryan. Spencer wraps his arms around Brendon’s torso and pulls backwards as hard as he can to pry Brendon off. He falls back onto the floor and Brendon comes with him. Quicker than Spencer can react, Brendon’s rolling over, twisting and jamming a leg between both of Spencer’s. He starts rutting against his leg, hard as rock and Spencer hates himself a bit for what that does to his body.

From what Spencer can see -when he wrenches his head to the side to get Brendon’s mouth off his, Brendon goes straight for his neck- Ryan is just staring at them. Spencer snaps. He didn’t save Ryan so Ryan could get off on watching two of his friends. “Call his fucking parents!”

Ryan seems to snap out of it. He pulls out his cellphone and presses a single button before jamming the phone to his head. It’s eternity with Brendon writhing on him before Ryan shakes his head. “They’re not answering.”

“Call the fucking hotline then!” Spencer’s sure the rumours are just that. They’re supposed to help the Afflicted, and it’s not like they’re affiliated with the KA at all. And at this point, even if it’s not all rumours, it’s still the only option Spencer has left to get Brendon off him.

Ryan looks at him. He doesn’t say anything, but his face is disapproving. Easy for him, he only had Brendon trying to kiss him, not Brendon humping him like a dog. “Fucking _call_!”

*

It’s weird that the Afflicted Hotline hospital isn’t any different than any normal hospital Spencer’s been in. He keeps on expecting to see dwarves or old crones, but it’s all just off-white painted walls and doctors in green and nurses in cartoon splashed uniforms.

The ridiculous rules are the same too. Only two in a room at once, even though it’s not like they’re going to be disturbing the person next to Brendon. The girl is in the same state as Brendon, utterly unconscious. Ryan’s in the room with Mrs. Urie, leaving Spencer to awkwardly stand with Kara outside the closed door. She’s glaring at him, and the silence only makes it worse.

“Why’s he in a coma?”

“It’s pretty much the Hotline’s first reaction. It worked in the classic cases, so now they do it unless there’s a specific reason not to. It’s standard procedure. Brendon was probably out before they had the ambulance doors locked.” Okay, the glare combined with the biting tone is worse than the glare with silence, Spencer was wrong. He’s a big man, he can admit it.

“I don’t know if they did. They wouldn’t let us come with.”

“Wasn’t the entire point of your call to get him the fuck away from you?” It sounds wrong for her to be swearing. Brendon doesn’t swear, even though he says he doesn’t really believe any more. Spencer knows that all his siblings and other relatives still follow the Mormon religion, so Spencer’s sure Kara’s not supposed to be saying fuck.

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. We called you first, but you weren’t home, and we panicked. You weren’t there, you don’t know.”

“Brendon is eighteen. You think I haven’t seen how he can be after six pm?” Spencer thinks of the door locked from the outside before deciding that’s not something he wants to think any more about.

“We didn’t know that’s what they were going to do. He’ll be okay though, right? He’ll wake up soon.”

“He’s been okay in the past. But medically induced comas aren’t something a body gets used to.” Kara is silent a moment before continuing. “You didn’t have to do that. You just needed to get him off a few times.”

Spencer crosses his arms. He won’t feel guilty for this, he _won’t_. “That’s rape, if he attacks us and forces us.”

“You don’t think he’s being forced too? Spencer, I know it was scary. I entirely know how scary it can be. But he was twelve when it started, and it’s every day, and he hates it. He can never leave the house after six. At least not until he’s married and has someone to help him out in a bathroom or car if he so needs. Before you decide he’s disgusting, think about how horrible it is for him. And tell Ryan too.”

*

Spencer is the first person not family to talk to Brendon when he wakes up. Or at least he thinks he is. Ryan and Brent haven’t visited yet anyway, they would have told him. There’s no saying if a friend of Brendon’s from Palo has been. Brendon seems like the type that would have a lot of friends in school. Not like him. Spencer’s a bit bitchy for a large group of people to hang out with. Not that it matters, he’s always had Ryan.

“Hey, Bren.” It’s late morning, a little after eleven. Spencer can’t help but check his cell phone to make sure, even though the sun blasting through poorly drawn blinds says he’s being ridiculous.

“You will find your passion when the sun sets.”

“What?”

“That’s what my fairy godmother said. My parents didn’t follow the rituals to bar them from the delivery room, they thought their faith in God would keep the magic away.”

“From what I’ve heard, it’s all crap anyway.” If there was a true way, it would be in every prenatal book. It would have been blasted from CNN and all over the internet.

“Yeah, well. Whatever it was, she showed up, and said my I’d find my passion when the sun set. I was born March thirtieth, sunset was 6:01. I think my parents were hoping I’d be this great astronomer or something. They gave me a lot of books about moons and stars when I was a kid. And then puberty...”

“It wasn’t astronomy.”

“The first night it happened, I attacked one of my brothers. They called the Hotline, down I went. First coma of my life, September fifteenth. After I woke up they were going to keep me overnight, at six exactly I went for the person in the bed beside me. They restrained me, and that’s when everyone realised it would be a nightly event.”

“Shit.”

“Lucky me, huh.”

It’s possible he shouldn’t be asking. But shit, it’s a bit late for Brent to be kicking his ass for prying now. “So, how does it work?”

“At six I get _passionate_ ,” Spencer can hear the revulsion in Brendon’s voice and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kara is right, that he hates everything about it, “And if I’m around anyone I space out, just go for them. If I’m locked in my room, I jerk off. The first time I can’t even remember doing. After the first time the need dies down a bit. Still horny, but I can at least remember it. There’s no refractory period. It lasts until I fall asleep, or until midnight.”

Spencer attempts humour, “So it is a Cinderella thing. Ryan was right!”

“As much as I love the Disney version of the first case study, not so much. So yeah, that’s how I turn into a rapist every evening. If you’d just give my guitar back to my parents that’d be great.”

“What?”

“Well, I still want it back. I guess you could have it if you sued me, because it’s the only thing I have worth money, but I’m pretty sure there’s some law that says you can’t discriminate against me.” Brendon rambling, and Spencer’s known him long enough to know it’s covering fear.

“No, I meant what as in why would it need to leave the garage?”

“Because I want it back, I just said I’m not giving it up unless you sue me and I-”

“Brendon! Focus. Are you staying here for a while?” He doesn’t know Afflicted hospital protocol, but Spencer can understand wanting it back if he’s going to be here a week. If Spencer was ever confined to the hospital, he’d want his drums, even if there was no way to actually get them. Brendon’s lucky his instrument is portable.

Brendon snorts. “I need to be out before six, or I need to be restrained in a private room. Since we’re not exactly rich, my parents are going with option one.”

“Then why can’t it stay in the garage until next practice?”

“Uh, because I won’t be going to next practice, because I’m not in the band any more?”

Spencer gives his best unimpressed look. “When did you decide that?”

“You’re kidding, right? I attacked you and Ryan. And it’s not like we could play a gig anyway. It’s a great dream, but when you wake up in the hospital it’s time to face reality, right?”

“Warped plays before six.” At least, he thinks it does.

“In case you don’t remember, I attacked you and Ryan. He’s never going to want to see me again. He’s got control issues, I sing Camisado, I know Mr. Ross. He’s not going to let me be another person that hurts him.”

“Ryan wants to get the fuck out. Your voice is going to make that happen. That’ll matter more.” So it’s not as kind as saying that Ryan won’t care about the forced make out. Brendon will know he’s lying, it can’t be kind if it’s recognised as bullshit. At least Ryan using Brendon as a meal ticket is believable.

“I’ll come to practice after he contacts me.” Brendon’s voice is devastated but hard, Spencer doesn’t bother to try arguing more. He needs to save the strength for talking to Ryan.

*

It’s Kara that opens the door, which makes Spencer both relieved and more agitated. It’s better than Mr or Mrs Urie answering the doorbell, but she doesn’t exactly like him. Instead of hello she greets them with “It’s almost six.”

“We know.”

She eyes them for a minute. It’s as bad as a cop staring at him, trying to decide if he was the one that had graffitied the neighbourhood. (For the record, he wasn’t. Spencer doesn’t have anything against graffiti, he likes the colour it adds to the cookie cutter houses. He just doesn’t have any art skills.) In hindsight Spencer remembers Kara is Mormon too, and among other things they’re not very happy about same sex relations. Just as he’s about to wince and find something to say she answers. “Go as quick as you can. You don’t want my parents to see you. I’ll lock it for him, so they don’t stick their heads in. If you need out, call the house.”

Spencer darts to the stairs, and takes them almost at a run. Ryan follows right behind him. He still remembers where Brendon’s room is, and the doorknob turns when he tries it.

“Guys? It’s almost six, why are you here?”

Ryan shrugs. “We wanted to be.” Spencer’s not a girl, but the way Brendon’s face lights up at Ryan’s words is almost beautiful.

“I’m not sure if you’ve paid attention, but Ryan and Brent argue about Ryan wanting an all bi band at least once a week. Plus, it’s not rape if you consent, right?” So maybe he’s a douchebag for joking about it. Probably he is. It’s enough to make Brendon stand and kiss him, so he’ll apologise later.

Spencer can tell the moment it turns six, without looking at his cell. Brendon’s kiss changes, it goes from nervous and excited to demanding and ravenous. Brendon’s hands relocate to his ass, dragging him close enough press hard against his leg. He slides roughly against Spencer until Ryan traps him on the other side, wriggling his hand between them. Spencer can feel Ryan’s knuckles as he works Brendon outside of his jeans. It’s not long until Brendon’s spasming against him. When he comes he bites down, Spencer hisses as his tongue gets caught between Brendon’s teeth.

Brendon backs off, crosses his arms and tucks his hands into his armpits. He’s still hard, but Spencer recalls their talk and knew to expect that. “I’m going to assume we just did something, because the haze is gone. I’m sure it was awesome, and I’m sure I’d love to do it again, but just for the record, why?”

“If we get you off a few times before you go on stage, we’re betting you can still perform. We won’t let you rush the crowd. I’ll even let you rub against me on stage. Stage gay is very popular with certain audiences.”

Frankly, Spencer thinks Ryan’s counting his chickens a bit. First they need to get enough songs to play a set. But it’s a good future plan, enough so that he nods his agreement, before adding “Besides, it’s not like it’s a hardship. You got off but you don’t remember it, me and Ryan are still hard. Can we do something?”

“One of you want to fuck me?” Spencer looks at Ryan, who stares back at him. Their wordless rock paper scissors is interrupted by Brendon adding “Or you both could. I’m good for the next six hours.”

It’s pretty much a wet dream come true. Spencer grins and lets Ryan take Brendon by the hand and pull him to his bed. He wants to watch.

“Spencer, can you get lube from the trunk?” Brendon asks from under Ryan, who’s currently stripping him. It seems like the sort of thing that would have been easier while they were both still standing, but Spencer’s not going to knock Ryan’s technique.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. The trunk is a toy chest. A _full_ toy chest.

“Once you turn about fourteen, jerking off four or five times a night starts to get boring,” Brendon explains over the sound of his kicked off jeans hitting the floor.

Spencer picks a bottle of cherry lube and gives it to Ryan. He, at least, is smart enough to pull off his pants before sitting on the floor beside Brendon’s bed. There is a little room at the bottom of the twin mattress, but it would be a poor angle. Spencer wants to be able to see everything, he wants to know what touches make Brendon’s face contort so he can do them straight off the hop when it’s his turn. And by the time he’s done, it’ll be Ryan’s turn again, and then his turn again. For the rest of his life, or at least until Panic! gets famous and Brendon finds groupies, his existence is going to be about sex and rock and roll. (Not drugs, Ryan would kill him.) He’ll have to buy Brent a cake or something in thanks.


End file.
